


The Flip Side

by Brate



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Humor, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-20
Updated: 2012-02-20
Packaged: 2017-10-31 12:17:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/343976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brate/pseuds/Brate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A trio of unusual hunts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Flip Side

**Part One**

Sam Winchester coughed as another dust cloud erupted around them. His brother Dean stood next to him, his face a mask of horror and fear.

"We've got to do something," Sam said.

"I know."

"Sometime this century."

"I _know_." Dean's voice switched to a growl. 

"It's got to be destroyed, Dean."

"No, there's gotta be another way."

"It's evil."

"It is not. It's just possessed by evil." Dean's eyes lit up. "We could exorcise it."

Sam choked, fanning away another wave of dust. "It's a car," he croaked.

"It's not _a_ car, it's _my_ car." As if that settled the matter.

Sam figured in this case it did. 

They'd been hunting a rogue spirit, chasing it across the county. They thought they had it cornered in an old farmhouse, when the spirit had gotten by them and taken refuge in the Impala. Sam and Dean had been watching the car drive around them in circles, almost as if the spirit was giving it a test drive. But they knew it wouldn't remain harmless for long.

Suddenly the car whipped around and faced them, idling about thirty feet away.

The Winchesters exchanged a look of _This can't be good._

Slowly it rolled toward them. Dean stood his ground, even when Sam backed up a couple steps. The car stopped again, inches from Dean's legs before reversing to ten feet away.

"Dean…"

"It's okay."

"I really think—"

"Seriously, it's under control."

Just as the words were out of Dean's mouth, the car's tires spun and it shot forward. Sam grabbed Dean by the scruff of his jacket, yanking him out of the way before the Impala barreled through.

Sam looked at his brother. "You were saying?"

"It wouldn't've hurt me," Dean insisted. "Just wanted to give me a little love tap."

"Uh-huh." Sam watched the car resume its circuitous journey. He rummaged through the duffel bag slung across his shoulder, bringing out the shotgun and _real_ ammunition. "Can I blow out the engine now?"

"No way." Dean's head shook so fast Sam was afraid he would get whiplash.

"How about just the tires?"

"Over my dead body."

"I think the car will take care of that."

"All right, let's start the exorcism. We were going to do it at the farmhouse, we'll just switch it to the car."

Rolling his eyes, Sam did as his brother requested. He returned the weapon and ammo to the duffel, removing the bottle of holy water, intending to spray it at the car on its next pass. Sam drew his arm back for the throw.

Dean grabbed his wrist. 

"What now?" Sam snapped.

Dean had the sense to look sheepish. "You can't do that."

"Why not? The exorcism was your idea, remember?"

"Yeah, but let's do the one without the holy water." 

"Why's that?"

"It'll bubble when it comes in contact with evil."

"Yeah…and?"

"It might mess up the paint job," Dean finished. 

"You've got to be shitting me." Sam slammed the duffel into Dean. "Fine, we'll do it your way. But I am so not letting you forget this."

Sam opened their father's journal, balancing it with one hand while holding his mini flashlight in the other. Finding the correct page, he started reciting in Latin, projecting his voice to the car. 

He was about halfway through when he was interrupted by a flying tackle. Sam landed hard on the ground, covered by his brother as the Impala raced past with inches to spare. 

"Thanks."

"Oh, I didn't do it for you," Dean answered. "Your body would've wrecked my baby's grill."

Sam stared at Dean for a moment before shaking his head. "Yeah, whatever." 

"Hurry up and finish this bitch before it hits a tree or something."

Sam continued where he'd left off, keeping one eye on the circling car. He finished the incantation and closed the book with a determined snap. 

The car shut down, rolling to a stop.

Warily, the two crept toward the Impala, ready to dive out of the way if necessary. There was no reaction at their approach. 

"Should we test it with holy water?"

Dean frowned. "Okay, but do it on the floor mat or something so it won't show."

Sam rolled his eyes, but did as directed. He cautiously leaned in the open window and dribbled a bit of holy water onto the carpet. 

Nothing happened. 

"All clear," Sam said over his shoulder. He opened the door and slouched into the seat. Dean threw their bag into the backseat before getting behind the wheel. 

"First Constance, now this," Sam sighed. "If it happens again—"

Dean cut him off. "It won't."

"How do you know?"

"Because the next stop we make, I'm putting a protective spell on this freakin' car. No ghost is gonna get their hands on it ever again," Dean vowed, slamming his foot down on the gas pedal. 

Sam believed him.

 

**Part Two**

Walking into their hotel room, Sam Winchester flopped down onto his bed and sighed.

Dean raised his eyes from the laptop, sending him a questioning look. "What's wrong with you?"

"I know what we're hunting," Sam replied in an even tone.

"Yeah? What is it?"

"A Yeti."

Dean paused. "Come again?"

"It's a Yeti. I saw it."

"There's an Abominable Snowman in Mississippi? No wonder he's pissed."

"It's—"

"What are we gonna do, give him a ride to the North Pole?" Dean continued.

"Actually, they're from Nepal."

"Oh, well, if that's the case, let's load it up in the car and get going," Dean deadpanned. He grabbed their father's journal and started leafing through it. "Seriously, how do we get rid of a Yeti? They aren't endangered or anything, are they?"

"We don't have to worry about it," Sam said. "Jed's got it covered." 

"Jed? Who's Jed?"

"A redneck with a walk-in freezer. He wants to keep it for a pet."

"He can't do that."

"Well, the Yeti's never actually hurt anyone, just scared them." Sam shrugged. "And it seems to like Jed. They were getting on like gangbusters when I left."

Dean looked at him blankly.

"Jed's gonna name it 'Hank.'"

Dean's confusion cleared and he gave a toothy grin. "Okay, I get it. This is a joke, right? Getting me back for that mess in Deadwood."

"Nope."

"I don't believe you."

"That's okay, I brought proof." Sam reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the video camera.

Dean accepted it and turned it on, watching the small screen intently. By the time the picture ran out, his mouth was hanging open. Finally, he recovered the ability to speak. "So what the hell are we down here for? What are we going to do now?"

Sam looked over from where he'd been packing his bag. "I hear there's a Jersey Devil over in Biloxi."

 

**Part Three**

Sam Winchester stood with his arms crossed, stubbornness etched on his face. "It's your turn," he told his brother.

"Bullshit," Dean snapped back. "I did it last time."

"When?"

"In Raleigh."

"No." Sam shook his head. "I'm the one who ended up covered in mucus."

"That's right…but I did it in Devlin."

"Nuh-uh. I'd just gotten back from the hospital after that she-bat went batshit."

"Oh, yeah. Georgetown."

"Try again."

"Lansing."

"Nope."

"Come on," Dean pleaded. "I promise I'll do it next time."

"I don't believe you."

"I'll sign an I.O.U."

"Like this one?" Sam held up a scrap of paper.

"Dude, you actually kept that? Just how lame are you?"

"Not as lame as you, apparently, trying to get out of doing your job."

"I call foul." Dean raised a hand. "This is _not_ my job. Hunting monsters and evil spirits is my job. This is extra."

"Well, neither of us can take a shower until you…"

"I know, I know." Dean's face brightened. "Let's call housekeeping." 

"You'd rather call in a girl than kill it yourself?"

"If it comes to that, yeah."

Sam made a point of looking around their room. "I highly doubt they even _have_ housekeeping here."

Eyeing the closed door uneasily, Dean asked, "What if it's a jumping one?" 

"It's not."

"How would you know? Are you some kind of spiderologist?

"Yes, at Stanford I minored in spider-ology." Sam shook his head, trying not to smile. "It's a little bitty spider, man, grow a spine."

"It's not a small one; it's one of those hairy, big-body deals!"

"Tough. Go."

Dean's lip curled, but he slowly made his way to the bathroom door. Opening it, he had the look of a doomed man walking to the electric chair.

Sam watched him. Growing up, both boys had disguised their irrational fear of spiders from their father, simply finding ways to have him "discover" the spider and kill it. Then, in his first year of college, Sam's roommate had a pet tarantula. He'd gotten over his phobia pretty quickly, through sheer necessity. 

A muffled shriek came from the bathroom.

But, of course, Sam wouldn't be telling Dean anytime soon.


End file.
